Call from Above

Pushing the telephone at her husband, she says, “Donald, John McCain wants to speak to you.”

“Knock it off, Melania.”

She puts the phone to her ear and listens again.

“He insists, Donald.”

“I don’t like pranks,” he says, taking the phone. “Who the hell’s this? You want the secret service on your tail.”

“Look into the heavens and watch my thumb hammering down on you.”

Smirking, Trump says, “Even though you’ve been brain dead a long time, I hear you’ve seen my bigger thumbs down reminding supporters there was a sick senator who’d didn’t help me get rid of Obamacare. I didn’t even have to say your name. They know you’re a traitor.”

“You can fire up the crazies but you’re unqualified to be president. I didn’t think you’d win but knew if you did you’d struggle to actually govern the country.”

“John, in 2008, you begged me for support and I offered plenty. Then you dropped me because of a few recorded jokes about the ladies. More people should know you screwed around as much as I did and cussed a lot more.”

“I should’ve stressed the real reasons I abandoned you. You’d rather spread hate than make lives better, and you’re a phony patriot who could’ve served in Vietnam but preferred to keep getting student deferments.”

Trump turns red. “You calling me a coward?”

“I certainly am.”

“You talk a lot for a guy who got shot down because he ignored his control panel alert that enemy radar just locked onto his plane.”

“I grant that I was a better prisoner of war and senator than pilot.”

“I like guys who weren’t captured,” Trump says.

“I admire the dedicated Americans who more every day are wiping your face in the garbage you leave everywhere you’ve been.”